Ms O'Hara
by galleons
Summary: Another day has begun.
1. Prologue

**Ms. O'Hara**

**Prologue**

She checked that her bonnet was tilted fashionably to the side in the mirror, but her expression was distracted, and then she turned from it and sighed with a heavy heart. _But God's nightgown! _She didn't have to look as bad as she felt.

She was the worst, the most God-awful mother on earth. She had failed them.

_Why, oh, why did I realize this now? Since Bonnie, Melly, Rhett…_

She had been young and scared, maybe even bitter. She had lost her own parents who had pampered and catered to her every need and wish, had coddled and spoiled her. She had had more burdens on her than she was sure her young and inexperienced shoulders could carry. Death and disaster at her doorstep; and it had seemed fine at the time because she swore to make it up to them time and again as she pushed it from her mind, to deal with the serious matters at hand.

And she had just never gotten around to it. But she had meant too.

Like with most things in her life…that should have been important to her but either weren't or she felt she had time later on when things were better to fix.

It hadn't worked out that way.

And now it was too late. They feared her, had nothing in common with her, and didn't love her. She was sure of it. It made her sad. She wondered if she could ever make up for it now. But it was beyond Scarlett how important the formative years were.

They were nothing like her. Wade was so much like Melly and Charles, a Hamilton in looks and demeanor, with even the vaporings of Aunt Pitty, and not even the sense of Uncle Henry who loved his nephew like a son he never had, just as he had Charles, and Ella… the spitting image and not a pretty one of Frank. Bonnie had been like her, but she had loved Rhett more, always more, no matter what she had done to make her love her too.

She had packed them off to Tara hours earlier and returned to Atlanta on her own, relieved to leave Suellen's unendurable endless whining for a spell

She had bent down to each of her children before she left them at Tara. "Give Mother a kiss, Wade Hampton… and you too, Ella.

A quick hesitant peck from each of them, and they had both ran out of Ellen's office.

For now, Ms. O'Hara was alone.


	2. Mammy

**Mammy**

"Mammy!" the children yelled and ran with arms outstretched. Mammy had been resting when they had arrived and had only seen Scarlett who had gone to her room to see her. When Scarlett left she still felt weary and needed to rest. She wished that she would stay longer, but Scarlett insisted she had to get back to Atlanta, but she would be back. Mammy later rose and went looking for Wade and Ella.

The boy threw his arms about her and the little girl clung to her leg. She lifted her heavy arms and embraced both of them. "Miss Ellen's granbabies are home. I sure missed you both." Mammy closed her eyes thanking the Lord she was able to see them again. It had been a long time since she told Miss Scarlett that she was old and just wanted to go home to Tara. Scarlett had grudgingly agreed. In her grief over Bonnie, Mammy wasn't even sure she heard her nor truly realized she was serious until her bags were packed and Rhett had personally rode in the carriage with her to the Depot. Scarlett had said little, hugged her and kissed her, and then went back to her rooms.

If Scarlett needed her she would go back to Atlanta; Mammy found it hard to tell her. How did she tell Scarlett whom she loved, her lamb, her baby, that she had had enough for a while. That maybe she was old, and the load was just too much for her to stand. But she would try, take a break, and try some more. But first she needed to see Tara. Miss Ellen was calling her home. She had seen her in a dream telling her as much soon after Bonnie died, but as she had been; a little girl in Savannah. She could still remember the dream, her long black hair, beautifully dressed, her stunning face shining and the black eyes smiling again, as she had never seen since she left to make her home at Tara. And she needed a rest, the quiet of Tara, to nurse her heartbreak over Bonnie. That, and Mammy hadn't been feeling well for a long time. She hadn't told anyone, though they had noticed, but the rest of the household was too apprehensive to tell Mammy due to her pride.

She led Wade and Ella to the kitchen to rejoin Will, Suellen, and the family for supper. They walked in quietly and content. They had been alone with only mother in the very large mansion on Peachtree Street. It wasn't the same. It had been quiet and lonely since their sister went to visit God, and Uncle Rhett had gone on business. Wade thought that Uncle Rhett had been gone a long time and was worried, and when he asked about him his mother had told him to hush, and that he was busy and she would let him know as soon as he was back. Wade Hampton hadn't asked her about him again.

Wade and Ella were happy to see family. Ella was a sweet and timid child and played nicely with Suellen's girls. She thought that sometimes Suellen's eldest, Susie, was a bit bossy but she didn't mind. Ella and Wade hadn't seen much of Beau before they left Atlanta, and he had been their regular playmate in Atlanta. But even Beau did not always wish to play as much since Aunt Melly had gone to God to take care of their sister, Bonnie.

Mammy saw them sit down at their places at the long wooden table near the other children. She looked at the table. There was a large, roasted, crispy chicken and creamy whipped mashed potatoes with gobs of butter floating on top that would soon be served with thick savory chicken gravy. Two vegetables, cornbread, biscuits and a cake they made to welcome back Scarlett and the children. Never peas or hominy because Scarlett forbid it if she was there visiting. Even Suellen, remembering the early years after the war, didn't complain and didn't serve them. The food looked so much better than it tasted to her lately. She never seemed to have much of an appetite. But who would? The last few years had been full of woe and misery. Miss Bonnie gone and then Miss Melly, Mister Rhett not himself, and Miss Scarlett carrying loads that even Mammy marveled would break a lesser person. She had seen it before.

Even as a toddler Scarlett had been strong and willful. Mr. Gerald had been proud of it much to Mammy and Miss Ellen's dismay. But that hard, unscrupulous tough-as-nails Scarlett that emerged after the war had always fretted Mammy. The poor child had caused so much of her own grief, but then had way too much thrown at her that she hadn't. What bothered her was that when things got better and the Lord gave her a heap of things that were good and times got better, she was so hard-headed and suffering from the past that she pushed things away, maybe even afraid because she had lost so much to the war. She loved her Scarlett, and some things she had tried to tell her over and over again, and fell on deaf ears. With some things she figured it wasn't her place to say anything and just let them be.

_Mister Rhett…_she had warned Scarlett not to marry him.

But Mammy had been wrong about him.

She left Atlanta not so much for Scarlett; it was more because she couldn't see Mister Rhett destroy himself. He insisted on driving her to the Depot. Mammy said she didn't mind going alone. Scarlett had gone to her rooms, never showing it, but Mammy guessed she was too proud to admit it. She had felt betrayed that Mammy was leaving her. The children stayed with her because they all figured it would be hard on them to see her go in the train. Mammy knew they would be coming to see her soon for a visit to Tara so she felt better, but then Miss Melly got sick and died and Scarlett had come home, stayed for a few hours, and went right back to Atlanta just as quick.

_And poor Mister Rhett…_

They red-eyed, scowling, bloated man who drove her to the Depot was broken. He gave her some money and a large hug, but his eyes, his listless manner of speaking, his sharp tongue, worried her greatly. He tried a little humor but his heart wasn't in it. The neighbors lined up near their carriage blocks to wave and call greetings and even to stop him to offer some kind words and condolences. He ignored them and kept at the reins. They knew not to take it personally and they felt for him. Bonnie had been such a lively and beautiful child. They knew how much he loved her. They themselves had visited the mansion once after the funeral and couldn't bear to go back. They missed the blur of blue velvet and black tumbling curls that went flying around the neighborhood on her fat pony, urging him on with her little whip to go faster and squealing and asking her father if he was watching her or saw something she did. Scarlett was stone-faced, stoic, and quiet. Mister Rhett never came down at all. Mostly, the receiving was done by Melanie Wilkes. Ashley had remained at home with Beau and Scarlett's two other children.

She knew if he kept this way he may never get better. But it was with a heavy heart and tough love in a way she left. She had tried everything she could think of. She thought also a little time and distance would help. That and if they were to survive they had to try and do it alone and in privacy. Her leaving might help them or it might not. But things were so bad it couldn't hurt. And over the years she had grown to love and respect Mister Rhett too.

She still felt guilty. They needed her. But they had to work things out first. So when she was starting to consider that maybe it was the right time to go back, Miss Melly died, and now this…

Rhett and Scarlett were going to get a divorce. Mammy wasn't pleased. She had questioned Scarlett before she left and was shocked into silence.

It wasn't Scarlett's idea, like Mammy had surmised. It was Rhett's.

Mammy shuffled down the hallway to sit in Miss Ellen's office. It brought her comfort. She missed her so much. She had gone home to the Lord way too young. She was distressed and couldn't help the tears that were burning at her eyes. She wiped them with the hem of her dress. She had seen heartbreak before. She never believed it would happen to Ellen and her baby Scarlett. What bothered her was Scarlett's face before she left with her carriage to take the train back to Atlanta. It was the same face she saw in Savannah many years ago. Scarlett had been cheerful and tried to raise her spirits, by Mammy had watched her closely, and knew better. Her lamb never stopped trying to get one over on her if she felt she had to. But this time it wasn't the lovesick disappointment of a 15 year old girl who still had the hope and prospects of a husband and family and home. For despite all his ranting, Mister Gerald had loved Miss Ellen. He had loved her so much he had died from it and couldn't live without her anymore, so the Lord saw fit to take him so he could join her. The face, the expression was the same…the same pale thin, distressed look, the sorrow in the eyes. Mammy had never wanted to see it again. Oh, Scarlett had hugged her and teased her and told her everything was going to be fine, but Scarlett also saw that it wasn't working and then poured her heart out to Mammy before she left. Mammy made her promise she would come back soon or she was going to take a train herself and go to Atlanta to check on Scarlett. Scarlett said she had to take care of some things but she would return soon.

Mammy wasn't so sure. She knew Miss Scarlett better than she knew herself. But how much more could her lamb take? And how many more years would the Lord give her to watch over her lamb. Could her lamb go on if her heart was broken?

Mammy wasn't sure of that either and it troubled her.

As she sat in Ellen's office, she looked at the damaged portrait of Solange, Ellen's mother who had raised her. And she thought of a third person who she had seen with a sad look of constant heartbreak in their face and especially their eyes. Solange's last husband, Pierre, Ellen's father….

_Aurelie was born in Savannah in the lovely and dignified Robillard home. She became Mammy later. When Pauline was born, Mammy had taken care of her. Solange was barely home. Always a dinner, ball, or party kept her away. So when the toddler wanted to be picked up and raised her little arms, when she awoke and cried in the night, calling for her "maman" who wasn't there or was fast asleep, her garbled baby words sounded sort of like mamen or mamet, so "mammy" stuck. When Eulalie and later Ellen arrived, that is what they called her. All memory of Aurelie gone.._

_Mammy was a favorite of Solange, but you wouldn't think it. Solange would never allow anyone to think she favored them, thinking they would try to get around her. She spoke in a soft montone always; a throaty, deep, guttural yet slightly nasal but feminine, sharp voice. She incited fear and commanded respect from her children and her household; to her husband, outward indifference with the appearance of deference. She did as she pleased. She never raised her voice. The shouting was from Pierre constantly frustrated that he did not have his wife's full attention._

_So when she died Pierre was devastated, stricken, until he rallied. But it wasn't living and enjoying live as he had with his wife, it was more about survival and living in the past until he went to join her. He had his fortune, his lovely home, his daughters that were hers, and his memories. He was a soldier of Napoleon; he would survive. He survived__ the fleeing of his beloved France, the death of his beloved wife, his love whom he had been madly in love with since the day he had set eyes on her, had fled Haiti by night and never seemed to dwell on it much out loud, but Mammy always had the idea that keeping it in might have been the problem._

_No one was allowed to touch anything in her room, her boudoir, her closets, her drawers, or her private bathroom. Once a week, two old and loyal women were allowed merely to dust and not even that much. He swore her scent still lingered. Mammy had been busy with Ellen, helping her get dressed, when she looked across the hall and saw the door to her rooms open, and Pierre taking a deep breath. She always wore orangewater and violets for day, and for night, the muskier, stronger highly expensive perfume sent from France. _

_Pauline went in once and was spanked and she never went in again. Mammy felt he regretted it afterwards. The two elder girls had cried and missed their dear, cold and distant mother the most. Her ironwill, her strong presence, but for Miss Ellen it was different._

_She didn't know her that well. Her mother was always out even more after she told Pierre that Ellen was going to be her last child. He had no idea or say in the matter but acquiesced. During the day, the older girls went to morning mass and prayers and rose so early. Every piece of hair, hem, pleat in a dress, had to be perfect and up for inspection by Solange's disdainful and quick to scrutinize, critical eyes. _

_Miss Solange felt they represented her, their family, their blood, breeding, and impeccable reputation. _

_She had to be the greatest, the most disciplined, the very best at all times and there would nothing less from her girls. Mammy, in later years, saw some of the same self-discipline and pride in Ellen as she grew, but Ellen had a heart, was kind, and caring, and it was a different approach to motherhood._

"…_the most beautiful and exciting woman I have ever met." _Or what she had heard Pierre say to himself one night in his study, having had too much brandy, while staring at a portrait of his late wife.

_He never remarried. There were ladies and families interested in him re-marrying, but he said he never would. Most of the portraits in the house were of her. They seemed to be always watching him. He felt guilty. "She should be alive and even perhaps not me." Mammy had heard him say this a few times. "She had a zest for life. Each day was perfection as if it were her last. Who would ever have guessed she would die this young." She had also heard him say. But out loud, when he was alone, and to himself._

_Nobody was allowed to speak of her in his presence. Not even his children._

"_My poor love," he would repeat over and over again. Otherwise when he found out, he didn't speak to anyone but his wife until she went._

_In the house, even Solange herself had put up a brave front, stoic and cold when she told the girls but Mammy knew it was quite different the night before. The locked door of her bathroom, the windows closed, the curtains shut, sobbing and heartbreaking wailing. The only time she had seen her bend and show a crack in the veneer of her emotions…_


	3. Pierre

**Pierre**

And he had opened the door. And her long, thick, silky jet hair had streamed down her back and flowed down to where she was kneeling on the floor. She had broken something in a rage at her misfortune and then sunk to her knees and cried with Mammy's arms around her, tearing too, but offering words of comfort.

And Solange held her tightly and had allowed her to touch her when it wasn't to help with her hair or dress. One other time was recently when Solange was distraught over a man who had ended an affair to marry a much younger girl, and who had decided to not have a mistress when starting his new life with his young bride. Solange usually did the leaving. But Pierre knew nothing about it.

"Mammy…you must take care of my girls."

"I promise Miss Solange…I will raise 'em up well just like you taught me."

"They love you, perhaps even more than me…promise me."

"Oh, Miss don't go saying that. You know they love you."

"Perhaps I have been too strict with them, too harsh, no?"

"And how lovely and well brought up are they. Good girls…"

"Mammy, Ellen is so young…she loves you. Take care of her. I don't know how long…I will have. They cannot tell…are not sure."

"I promise you Miss…don't go worrying about nothing."

It came quickly and Solange was gone within the year.

Ellen clung to Mammy who loved her like her own. The other girls were stiffer, stronger and cared for Mammy too, but Mammy and Ellen had always had something special.

When Ellen married, she refused to leave Mammy behind, and even the suggestion brought tears to Mammy's eyes but she said nothing to Ellen's father, Pierre. She was too afraid to speak up and of course with the male head of house it was not her place to.

But Ellen was going to marry Mr. O'Hara. The "new" man and upstart and Pierre eventually relented and let her go. He had already spited Ellen, in her eyes, by forbidding her to marry Philippe Robillard, her cousin. And it was not lost on him that whether she knew it or not, she might be spiting him with the marriage and by leaving Savannah.

He grew tired of it all and heartsick, with no desire to keep the spite going. And he was not taking the chance that she was serious about the convent. He knew Mammy would take care of her, so he allowed her to go with Ellen. Though O'Hara had offered to make it up to him, Pierre declined the offer but not before hinting at how ill-bred it was. Mammy was not easy to be replaced. She was only a toddler when she moved into Solange's apartments to learn very young, being taught by her own mother, Laurette, before she died. Laurette had come from Haiti with Solange. When Solange fled she refused to leave her behind despite the dangers and disregarded how quickly she had to leave, because she loved her and she had been her nurse, and Solange had threatened her family that if there was not room on the ship, then she wasn't going either. She would wait. Room was made for Laurette.

He had taken it very hard when Ellen left. He wasn't sure he would see her that often and he had been right. Many years later, one could never tell, but time might have lessened old grievances. They had come to visit in Savannah every few years. Ellen seemed if not happy with Gerald O'Hara. Than at least content and comfortable, and he had grown even richer over time. He had bought even more land and had expanded the house every few years. And they seemed to love their three girls. But her visits were very short to the house. She spent more time with her sisters and frequently visited Charleston. And even in Savannah, she came for dinner, made some small talk, give him a greeting and farewell peck on the check and either stayed at the hotel or with friends or family. He barely saw his granddaughters but he didn't make much of an effort to leave his rooms or bend his schedule either.

When Ellen was younger she had been the spitting image of her mother. Pauline looked very much like her father and Eulalie resembled them both. It always hurt him to look at Ellen because she reminded him so much of his late wife, but he loved her in his own way, and he didn't want that cousin of hers for her because he felt she deserved better. She was the smartest, liveliest, and most beautiful of his three daughters. Philippe was wealthy and came from a long established line and name, but with his wild ways, the marriage would have been done in two years, once the excitement and appeal during youth had worn off.

His dearest child and his favorite had all the makings of a great lady like her mother. She married so young and left the sheltered existence with every protection and luxury he could give her in the pink stucco house in Savannah to brave the new and still wild fields of North Georgia. She most likely married Gerald O'Hara and never knew exactly how Pierre had felt.

Mammy held her the whole night when she got the letter. Ellen wouldn't let anyone else near her. The defiant face and demeanor she possessed when she told her father and her sisters that her mind was made up and it was settled and that she was going to marry Gerald O'Hara and that was that, or enter a convent, reminded him of his wife. The flaring, white hot, but outwardly subdued temperament, was just like her mother.

Her cousin Philippe had died in a scuffle over a bad woman, a lady of the night, in a barroom in New Orleans. Pierre had also received a letter from his family and he had left that part out in his argument with Ellen.

He had told her over and over again in exhaustion that he was no good and not a gentleman, beneath her, there were other good families and that she would make a much more illustrious match if she was patient. Philippe was a relative on her mother's. A very rich branch but a wild and eccentric family, and Pierre knew there were more skeletons and scandals in their closet than the ones polite society even knew about and gossiped about.

And then Ellen had brought up love and being in love. Pierre had always felt that he and his wife were special and different, and neither wanted the same for their girls. He had been fortunate to find his wife and it was something that didn't happen often. Mostly the ill-bred and foolish married for love. And how happy were most that had married for what they thought was love in the end?

But he couldn't say everything he wanted due to the delicate nature of a 15-year-old and a female child.

Years later he wondered if he had been more forthright that night, maybe Ellen would have changed her mind and not gone so far away and married so quickly, a man she didn't know very well, and whom Pierre and Savannah knew even less about regarding his family.

But how could a gentleman have such a conversation with his own daughter?

He would forever wonder when he thought of Ellen, if perhaps he should have thought of a way to do so delicately, or perhaps have someone else do it. A great lady, a well-respected matron, who in around about way would have let her know some things.

But mostly he kept in contact with occasional letters from his daughter. He kept them all. He had gazed at one of Ellen's letters noticing her elegant and neat script as she described how her child was doing and picked up the miniature of his first granddaughter, Scarlett, which Ellen had enclosed when Scarlett was three.

She had looked far too much like O'Hara for his liking. But the jet hair she talked of was from Solange and Ellen. The sweet face was also Ellen.

The supposedly green eyes and the willful expression…well…


End file.
